


Close To You

by thesadchicken



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Birthday Fluff, But also, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Hugs, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Softness, dorks being in love, mostly fluff to be honest, you might find some angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24146272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesadchicken/pseuds/thesadchicken
Summary: A collection of Kirk/Spock short stories. Mostly fluff.Each chapter is an independent piece.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 25
Kudos: 48





	1. Softness

**Author's Note:**

> These are short fluffy space husbands ficlets because I can never get enough of these two ♡   
> From the 5 year mission to retirement. Each chapter can be read as a stand-alone work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ficlet was written as a gift for my twin [jimkirkachu](https://jimkirkachu.tumblr.com/) ♡♡♡

Zero three fourteen hours. There is no light but the faint glow of a Caitian orb; the rose-gold shadows it casts on the walls. “A gift from an old friend,” Jim had explained when they’d first started sharing a room, “I can get rid of it if you want.”

 _No. Keep the relics and the ruins – I want your past and your future, I want you whole_. And now they are in bed, and the orb is painting the sheets a warmer shade of blue and their fingers are interlaced on the pillow between them.

The ship’s night is a deception, but they have been awake for nineteen hours. Sleep is unwanted when they are together; unthinkable when they are apart; impossible when Jim is smiling up at the ceiling, exhausted and content, a lock of hair curling where it falls on his forehead. Spock fights the desire to reach out and brush it back, but then he remembers – _you may, if you like_ – and he does, relishing this simple touch, this simple movement, his hand slipping through Jim’s hair, his fingers brushing Jim’s forehead.

There is a sigh, pleasure and sleep overlapping, eyelids fluttering open. “Hi,” Jim whispers, tilting his head to look at Spock, round ear disappearing into the pillow, cheeks pink and warm where Spock touches them – the tips of his fingers pressing in slightly.

A chuckle; sweetness beyond anything Spock has ever experienced. Another sigh, and Jim turns to lie on his stomach, smiling, smiling, smiling.

“I don’t want to fall asleep.”

The words echo in his mind, and Spock thinks, _me neither_ , _me neither_. His hand falls to Jim’s bare shoulder, palm rubbing up and down tenderly, then he taps a birth mark with his index finger. He draws invisible patterns on Jim’s back, poetry and pictures and nonsense. The light changes. Like sunset, it turns orange. Spock looks at the corners of Jim’s eyes; how they crinkle as he smiles wider; pupils gleaming with the promise of a dream.

“I miss the smell of rain. Next shore leave, let’s go somewhere where it rains.”

Spock imagines it: clouds gathering above them, the sudden downpour, and perhaps they’d be alone, perhaps Jim would hold his hand. He makes a list of class M planets in his mind, categorized by climate. The numbers dance in his head, so many possibilities, and he is giddy and serene all at once – emotions, bubbling to the surface, one by one and then all at once. For a moment he is overwhelmed. _Emotions_. His cheeks grow warm – the shame returns, too old to be abandoned so quickly. His hand falters, his fingers freeze.

Jim notices. Of course he does. There is stillness, but only for a second. Jim leans in and presses his lips to Spock’s forehead. There are words between them that do not require repeating, something Jim said when this all started. It is unnecessary and yet he says it again, whispers it against Spock’s skin, “Take your time.”

It is the most devastating thing Spock has ever heard. He looks up; once more he travels Jim’s face, charting laughter lines like constellations, mapping each freckle like a star. _Take your time, Spock. Let me help_.

“Jim,” he breathes, and all he wants is to lose himself in those hazel eyes. It would be so easy to let go and give in, forever this time, forever. Jim wraps his arms around Spock’s shoulders and pulls him closer. Bare chests rise and fall slowly against each other. Cheek to cheek, hand on shoulder, fingers in hair. Their legs are tangled, their feet touching.

 _Let go – no more shame, only this, forever._ It makes sense, somehow, that this is where he belongs.

He would sob, if he could remember how. He would weep with all this joy, how it overpowers him, how it washes away the years and years of loneliness. _Jim, Jim_ _I have been so alone_. Never again.

“I am,” he starts, voice breaking quietly, lips trembling against Jim’s neck, “so happy.”

A kiss – only one – slow and sweet and perfect. When they part, their eyes meet. Jim’s face is wet.

“I’m happy too,” he says, smiling again, smiling always.

They kiss once more, slower still – they have all the time in the world. They lean into each other lazily, noses bumping, lips coming together with infinite softness. In the morning Spock will tell Jim about all the class M planets where it rains, and Jim will look out at the stars and wonder, _do you think there have beaches there? Beaches where it rains, Spock?_

Now they fall asleep in each other’s arms, small smiles painting their tired faces.

 _I will walk with you under the rain, and on every beach we encounter, and everywhere we go. I will walk with you to the end of the world and back, and I will never leave your side_.


	2. One Tiny Whale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this ficlet for art by the very talented [robotalittlebit](https://robotalittlebit.tumblr.com/post/187615786341/thesadchicken-asked-for-a-baby-whale-there-you) ♡♡

_Captain's Log, stardate 5794.1. We have beamed down to_ Oxylion IV _, where violent seismic disturbances are causing drastic changes on the planet’s surface. Our mission: conduct scientific research to help determine the cause of the disturbances. Science officer Spock and myself are carrying out an underwater investigation of the planet’s now mostly ocean-covered surface…_

…and there is something exceptionally peaceful about our journey through the submerged plains, prairies and grasslands of the once-green planet. Everything is silent, and yet everything is moving – slowly, swaying with the tide.

I look over at Spock. Due to the unusually high ocean temperatures on _Oxylion IV_ , I’ve opted for my regular swim shorts, but Spock is wearing his Starfleet-regulation drysuit. He swims the way he walks: sharp, neat strokes that drive him forward with unaffected grace. The water pushes his bangs upwards, and I stare for a moment too long.

“Is everything alright, Captain?” his voice is muffled by the water and by the force field from his life-support belt.

I don’t look away. I stop dead in my tracks and turn to face him. He stops too, his arms and legs moving in small circles to keep him from floating all the way up to the surface. We look at each other, and he raises a single eyebrow. Eyes dark and shining like planets, hair an ebony crown around his head – he is beautiful.

“Quite alright, Mister Spock,” I smile at him, and for a moment I think he might smile back. Then his expression shifts ever so slightly, and his eyes focus on something behind me.

“Captain,” he whispers, “there is an aquatic creature approximately 2.4 meters behind you – it looks like an Earth cetacean – approaching us now.”

I can’t tell from Spock’s expression if he thinks this is dangerous or fascinating; probably a bit of both. I turn my head, only slightly, to look at the creature.

“Is that – is that a baby whale?”

Spock’s tricorder is already out. “Its outward appearance is similar to that of the extinct Terran humpback whale, but internally it is an entirely different species.”

“Harmless?”

“It would appear so.”

For a moment, we both watch in wonder as the whale swims right past us, its undulating form both elegant and absurd. Then all around there is only vast blue nothingness, and Spock looks at me. There, in the soft beams of light that filter through _Oxylion_ ’s calm waters, we’re alone, together.

“Shall we continue, captain?” Spock shifts to swim a little closer to me, bubbles curling around his wrists and ankles.

I smile. “Yes. Let’s see what else is out there.”

* * *

_art by the very talented[robotalittlebit](https://robotalittlebit.tumblr.com/post/187615786341/thesadchicken-asked-for-a-baby-whale-there-you) ♡_


	3. Happy Birthday Spock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for our favorite Vulcan's birthday ♡

“Happy birthday, Spock!”

Mother’s smile is careful, her tone is hushed. It’s a secret, this little celebration. The cake tastes like replicated bread. A solitary balloon floats in the middle of the room. Spock can barely contain his delight. He lets Mother kiss his cheek. In a few hours Father will be home. Before that, they will watch the blue balloon disappear into the sky.

* * *

“Happy birthday!”

Human hands raise glasses filled with human beverages. Spock’s quarters have never seen so many people at the same time before. Their smiles are genuine; they are pleased with the “surprise party”. There are flowers on the desk. Lieutenant Uhura is singing.

Spock shakes his head, only slightly. They are from Earth – they value this. Let them enjoy it. Let them enjoy it for him.

* * *

“Happy birthday, handsome.”

The teasing voice, the fingertip tracing Spock’s ear, the warm body lying next to his… Spock opens his eyes. Jim smiles – it is like sunrise. There is silence, and then two heartbeats, and then his bondmate’s thoughts. They are new to this. In space there are no seasons, but Spock remembers winter in _ShiKahr_. The beauty of the desert, the starlit dunes… never as beautiful as Jim’s playful smile.

There is heat, the moment their eyes meet. They are new to this, and eager, and passionate, and the fire moves over them as they roll around in bed.

* * *

“Happy birthday, Spock!”

Jim’s eyes are beautiful. “Your eyes are beautiful.”

“Flattery will get you... a great deal, actually.”

A kiss. Lingering. Jim’s lips are so soft. “Your lips are so soft.”

“You haven’t opened your present yet.”

Another kiss. Tender. Jim is perfect. “You are perfect.”

“I love you.”

“And I you.”

“Happy birthday, Spock.”


	4. Hugging You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sometimes fluff can be angsty?

The Captain’s eyes met Spock’s from across the empty transporter room. Like the very first time – only their places now reversed – and there was a second of stillness. Nothing between them, not even the transporter console, not even a teasing smile, a raised eyebrow, _why, Mister Spock…_

Nothing between them, except, perhaps, the memory of flames and phaser fire; of smoke and the storm outside. The question on both their tongues. Breathless, drifting, the sound of the Captain’s boots hitting the floor. Once, twice. A name, shouted over and over again, and fear in the pit of the stomach.

Spock might have died. It had been the only certainty in a world full of doubt. He remembered thinking it; _I will never see the Enterprise again_. His uniform clung to his back, still wet with rain. He was alive.

“Jim,” he said. _Captain_ , he’d meant to say.

They slid into place, the two of them, leaning towards each other as they often did – but this time they collided. Spock took a step down the transporter platform, Jim took a step up. They stumbled, it seemed, and suddenly there truly was nothing between them.

Spock stiffened in surprise. He closed his eyes against the sensation; the Captain’s body, strong and soft, pressed against his own. The smell of his cologne, his human warmth seeping through command gold. His cheek, barely grazing Spock’s jaw – too close and yet too far apart. It was unthinkable, and yet it was real.

Spock shifted slightly, ready to gently pull away. He paused, eyes still closed, chest heaving against the Captain’s. He waited… for what, he did not know.

He needed to apologize, step away, look at the ground. An unfortunate accident, this tender collision. And yet even as he formulated the thought he could not believe it. _Not an accident_. No, not an accident. Not when Jim’s arms were holding him, his palms flat on Spock’s back, his body arched inward to receive him. Not when Spock could feel a small tremor going through his own hands, and even clenching them into fists did not help.

Safety, just for a few moments. Like a sliver of light from his unhappy childhood: something he recognized, but did not quite recall. The initial shock faded, now Spock fought the urge to melt into the embrace.

And if only he could bring his own arms up, slide them around Jim’s shoulders too. If only he could pull him just a little bit closer, turn his head to breathe him in, just this once…

It would break him if he did. He would not be able to let go, and it would break him.

As if sensing this, Jim took a step back, slipping away as smoothly as he had appeared. Relief flooded Spock’s weakened mental barriers, floating around the senseless pain of that severed touch.

“It’s good to have you back, Mister Spock,” the Captain smiled.

Their eyes did not meet. He nodded, hovering. They would have stood there for too long, had Doctor McCoy not walked into the room.

They had already been standing there for too long.


End file.
